


Peter Parker is Every Avengers' Favorite

by Bella_Dahlia



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Everyone Needs A Hug, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Gen, Lets lighten this up a bit, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-19 14:26:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17603051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bella_Dahlia/pseuds/Bella_Dahlia
Summary: In a fluff-tastic world where the Universe Snaps Back and just this once, everybody lives, Peter Parker gets to adjust to being the new kid on the Avengers' squad. Lucky for him, it's not just Mr. Stark that seems to have a soft spot for him.Just a series of moments of our favorite super hero team getting to know and love our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.





	1. Mr. Stark (1)

Thanos created the Snap.

The Avengers made things Snap Back.

Only those directly involved would remember. Only those who traveled in time and fiddled with the Universe would be burdened with the knowledge of what years of life post Snap looked like.

Peter Parker remembered none of that. What he remembered was one moment Thanos lifted the Gauntlet high, and then suddenly he wasn’t there at all, only a twisted hunk of smoking metal sitting in his wake. The flip was instantaneous, without a blink or a hiccup, no tremors beneath his feet or skies going dim. One moment, the Universe looked ready to be obliterated, the next...

“...hey, think there’s any place to get good tacos in space?”  
————————————————  
The flight home on a friendly spaceship was way nicer than the Donut of Death and Mayhem, Peter decided.

Quill and his crew reluctantly agreed to give them a ride back—Quill looked a little green at the thought of visiting his home planet, but his girlfriend had miraculously appeared at his side from the Snap Back, and that seemed enough to placate him. The wizard, ashen but relieved, had started to explain the intricacies as to why he couldn’t just magic them back, but Stark just waved him off.

“Y’know what, I’ve had exactly more than enough magic for, well, ever, basically. We can trek it back old school, fine by me.”

Peter spent the first hour of the trip asking questions about the ship (“Her name is Benatar, not Shippy McShipface, Jesus!”) and about space travel (“They’re just—we call them clicks cause they’re clicks, okay? Why do you call pants pants, you don’t need an explanation for pants too, do you?”) and eventually got ordered off the bridge when he started making suggestions of how to improve their fuel consumption. (“Quill, this Peter appears to be far superior at mechanical engineering, and not nearly as close to being fat, can we arrange a trade?”) 

After that he wandered into what he thought must be the kitchen—he couldn’t see anything that looked remotely like a stove, but he did notice several bunches of a bizarre looking fruit hung in baskets from the ceiling. He moved in closer, contemplating whether wacky space fruit would kill him or not, when a tired voice sounded out from the other side of the room.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you. Honestly, do you really want to know how that will affect your bowels?”

It took a huge amount of willpower to not instinctively jump up to the ceiling, but Peter relaxed as he recognized the voice. “Heyyyy Mr. Stark,” he said slowly, taking in the billionaire’s appearance. He had seen Stark look tired before, but now, sitting at a small table, hunched over with the fingers of his hands woven together and hanging around his neck, he looked _wrecked._ He looked... older.

He looked haunted.

“C’mere, Pete.”

Noiselessly Peter moved over to sit beside Stark on the bench seat, his still gloved fingers threading together in his lap. The Iron Spider suit sat empty in one corner of ship, leaving him only in his regular Spider-Man gear. He didn’t exactly bring a spare set of clothes to space, and no one in the ship had volunteered him anything to wear. He waited for the older man to speak, but Stark only stared at him in a way that rapidly grew unnerving. The silence stretched on until Peter realized it would be his job to break it.

“Umm, Mr. Stark? You okay?” 

Stark blinked and shook his head slightly, as if waking from a trance. He dropped his gaze down to the table, scrubbing at his face with his hands. “Sorry, I—this is harder than I thought it would be,” he said bluntly. “I knew we’d be rolling back the clock but I didn’t...”

“Exactly how much time passed for you?” Peter asked.

The haunted look came back in Stark’s eyes. “Too long, kid.”

There was another moment of awkward silence, and Peter’s stomach flipped with anxiety; he was officially the worst at comforting people. Still, Stark was clearly messed up by whatever he had been forced to do to win against Thanos, and Peter couldn’t stand seeing people he cared about feeling bad. So he did the only thing he could think of.

He hugged.

He twisted on the bench and simply didn’t given his mentor a choice. Peter literally picked up Stark’s arms, stretching them out until he could get underneath them and let them fall on his shoulders. Then he put his own arms around the older man’s middle, the side of his face pressing against a collarbone, and hugged him.

“Thanks for saving me,” he mumbled against the smooth mesh of the running jacket. “And, y’know, the rest of half the universe.”

He felt Stark’s chest shudder with breath underneath him, and then the pressure of the man’s arms tightening on his shoulders, fingers gripping fiercely. He felt a more gentle pressure on the top of his head, and realized Stark was resting his chin there, the way Uncle Ben used to when they hugged. A tightness claimed Peter’s throat, blocking anymore words from coming out, but this time the silence wasn’t awkward, it was full and calm with things they didn’t need to bother to speak out loud.


	2. Aunt May (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the generous souls providing kudos and comments--nothing quite feeds the addiction like positive reinforcement. :) I know Aunt May is not technically an avenger but gosh darn it I do enjoy her, so she gets her own tiny chapter--I'm going to throw up another one later today to compensate, however, for the truly baby nature of this one.

Convincing Aunt May to let him officially sign on as a part-time Avenger took way longer than Peter thought it would. He just helped save the Universe without being an official member, he couldn’t see the big deal with what he considered a title bump. He tried bribing her with her favorite foods, he tried being whiny, he tried sucking up to her—he even tried getting Mr. Stark to come talk to her, but the billionaire had immediately threw his hands up and declared it Peter’s fight to win. “Consider it your qualifying round,” he had said, oblivious to the teenager’s pout on the other end of the phone.

“I’m just—I’m trying to live up to Uncle Ben,” Peter finally sighed, slumping down on the couch. “Y’know, what he always used to tell me—about power, and responsibility...”

May’s eyes went glassy as she sat down next to her nephew. “Oh, sweetie—I think you’re old enough to know, your Uncle Ben was full of shit,” she said with a watery laugh.

The shock of her statement made Peter blink, then laugh, and then they collapsed against each other, Peter’s head going against his aunt’s shoulder, her head in turn resting on his.

“Well, I mean, about his algorithms to pick what movie to watch on a Wednesday versus a Saturday, sure...” he agreed. “But of all his catchy hokey sayings, this one’s kinda stuck with me, y’know?”

“Pretty sure he was referring to the power of that noggin of yours, Peter, not assuming you’d be literal superhero material someday,” May replied softly.

“Yeah, but like, this _is_ about my brain.” Peter lifted his head to look at her, gaze full of earnestness. “The Avengers are made up of some of the smartest people on the planet, and Mr. Stark wants me to learn from everybody. He said this would be more like, I dunno, a real internship. Just, a superhero one.”

He could see the cracks forming in his aunt’s defenses, the softness growing in her expression.

“Two weekends a month, and the occasional evening trip, I’ll even make sure they’re the same time as your overnights at the hospital, that way I won’t be alone in the apartment, you always hate me alone at the apartment—“

“—I hate you out doing, that stuff, when I can’t be here if you need me,” May interrupted. 

“Even better, right, I won’t be alone anymore.”

She stayed silent, her eyes giving him a look but her mouth twitching at the corners. He knew that distinct combination of exasperation and fondness well.

_Qualifying round complete_ , he thought, before she ever replied.


	3. Ms. Natasha (1)

The Avengers Compound was _way_ bigger than Peter remembered.

He stood just inside the main entrance, fingers nervously twisting the padded strap of his backpack. Happy had picked him up from school and taken him directly upstate. Peter had protested, not having packed an overnight bag, but Happy just gave him a look.

“You’re going to the Avengers Compound, you think they don’t got a spare toothbrush for you yet?”

Once out of the city and moving incredibly fast on what appeared to be a private road, Happy engaged the self drive in order to turn around and hand Peter a small box. “Boss wants you to have this. Said you could spend the ride figuring it out.”

Inside nestled in tissue was a brand new StarkPhone and a pair of sunglasses. When he picked the phone up, the display came alive, white text appearing on a black screen. PUT THE GLASSES ON.

“This is so Matrix,” Peter breathed to no one in particular. He picked up the glasses, styled closer to Ray Bans than what Stark normally wore, and slid them on. Immediately display screens popped into view, looking similar to what he saw inside his Spider-Man mask.

“Hello, Peter!” KAREN chirped, her voice coming from microscopic speakers embedded in the frames. “Mr. Stark has synced me with your StarkPhone and your Shades relay, to allow for our communication beyond the suit, and I can now interface directly with FRIDAY inside the compound if the needs arises.”

“Holy crap! Why didn’t I get pseudo adopted by a tech genius billionaire sooner?”

The rest of the ride passed quickly after that.

But now Peter stood, his Shades clipped around the collar of his t-shirt, his StarkPhone in the right back pocket of his jeans, and instead of them feeling blindingly cool, they felt like terrible burdens. He wasn’t even seventeen yet, and accidentally getting himself sent into space, that wasn’t deserving of being knighted into the Avengers, who was he kidding, and this giant complex looming above him now definitely didn’t need an anxious over inquisitive kid running around breaking crap, this was such a _bad_ idea...

Giving into his panic, Peter turned on his heel, ready to sprint after the receding car and ask for a ride back to the city. He didn’t get very far, because somehow someone had crept up right behind him without his Spidey-Sense alerting him, and so Peter stepped full force into Natasha Romanoff.

He thought it had been bad in Germany, not really getting a chance to introduce himself, seeing her seriously pissed off face when Mr. Stark called him into play. This was so much worse.

Peter bounced back from the force, only barely being able to turn falling onto his butt into a somewhat more legitimate landing by the skin of his teeth. Or rather by the sticky tips of his fingers. He looked up from his crouched position on the floor, and saw Natasha standing with an eerie casualness, not a single strand of red hair out of place despite having been run into just seconds before.

How she managed to stay upright and graceful while he tumbled like a circus clown was just evidence that the most amazing superheroes didn’t need spider bites or wacky tech, he thought to himself.

“Oh man sorry I—Uhh, hi Ms. Widow. M-Ma’am,” Peter stammered, popping back into an upright position.

Natasha arched a single brow coolly. “Ma’am?”

Peter blinked slowly, his brain struggling to process the situation. “N-Not that you look like a ma’am, ma’am is what my Aunt May drilled into me to say to, well, anyone presenting female—ma’am is really an antiquated holdover from an aggressively gendered society that should really go away anyway, I mean, if we’re talking about it—“

“Breathe, kid, Cap ma’am’s me all the time.” 

Peter sagged visibly with relief, taking in a gulp of air.

“So you’re the pre-teen Tony brought to the school yard,” Natasha commented. She made a point of showing her gaze giving him the once over, and Peter instinctively straightened, attempting to look taller. “What were you back then, twelve?”

“What?” He inwardly cringed at the ill timed voice crack. “No, no I was way older, way way... fifteen, I was fifteen.”

Natasha stared at him hard for a long moment, her arms folding across her chest, her weight resting back on one leg, hip jutted out. It gave her the appearance of being relaxed, but he could practically feel the tension coiled under her skin, every muscle alert and ready to respond. Perhaps that was just her version of relaxed, as relaxed as an international spy could get. 

“Most people round here don’t understand,” she finally said, her voice surprisingly gentle. “What it’s like, starting young. When it gets to be a lot, come find me.”

“Oh wow—o-okay, thanks, Ms. Widow.”

“Just call me Natasha.”

Peter flushed. “Right, of course, yeah, thanks...”

She nodded once, the official, cool veneer sliding back into place as she dropped her arms and turned to continue on her way. Peter almost let her round the first corner before he realized he just couldn’t manage it and called out.

“Ms. Natasha?”

She stopped, one hand resting on the corner wall as she turned to look at him again. 

Peter swallowed back his anxiousness, a thick cloud in his throat. “It’s a lot.”

Something flickered in her expression; not quite a smile, but perhaps the beginnings of one. “I’m sure Tony put a map of this place on your phone. It seems large now, but when we’re all on base, trust me, you’re be crawling in the air vents just to find a little privacy.” She paused, thoughtful. “Then again, maybe that’s just Clint.”

Her dry delivery made laughter bubble out of Peter, and with it, his anxiety finally cracked and released, allowing him to take what felt like his first full breath since stepping inside the building. A smile did cross Natasha’s lips then, brief but warm, and surprisingly reassuring coming from someone who could kill him thirty seven different ways without breaking a sweat.

“Oh, and, Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time you run into Cap, make sure to lecture him about his antiquated aggressive gendering for me.”

Peter opened his mouth and shut it almost as quickly, his brow furrowing. “I—is this a hazing? It is, isn’t, it’s haze the new kid time?”

“Maybe I’m just sick of Steve’s gosh darned politeness,” she replied. “Or maybe it’s a hazing, there’s really only one way to find out.”

“Aw, man, this isn’t fair, don’t Kobayaski Maru me!”

The plea fell on apparently deaf ears as Natasha disappeared around the round, one of her signature enigmatic smirks finding its way on her face as she exited. It was only after she left that Peter realized his irrational panic had disappeared entirely. Which had probably been her entire point.

“Whoa... she’s good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spiders gotta stick together, after all.


	4. Thor, Sir (1)

After spending almost the entire weekend locked away in Mr. Stark’s personal robotics lab, being outside was a welcome relief.

It turned out almost all the rest of the Avengers were otherwise engaged offsite. Bruce Banner, Vision and the Scarlett Witch were in Wakanda, something about freeing Vision from his stone. Steve Rogers was in DC with Bucky Barnes and Lt. Colonel Rhodes, attempting to get charges against the Winter Soldier formally dropped. Natasha was on base somewhere, but apparently elbow deep with Maria Hill in getting the Avengers infrastructure up and running again. So the first weekend of Avengers 101 really became more of a personal tutoring session with Tony Stark.

Not that there was anything wrong with that. They made fantastic upgrades to the webshooters, they worked on some kind of lightweight fabric armor that may or may not have been Captain America’s new suit, and Peter might have even made a suggestion to reduce the lag response time in Rhodey’s leg braces without negatively impacting user feedback output. Stark had only pulled his glasses down on his nose, allowing him to look at Peter without the yellow hue, then pushed them back up and went right back to talking about something else entirely. But Peter was pretty sure at this point that was the older man’s version of an Atta Boy, and that he would be totally trying the suggestion.

That or the science was so flawed he was rendered speechless by the sheer stupidity of it. There really wasn’t any middle ground.

Yeah, gonna assume the first one until proven otherwise, totally.

Armed with the upgraded webshooters, Peter had been sent to go get a feel for the Avengers’ newly redesigned outdoor training area. He had a sneaking suspicion the timing of his excursion had a lot to do with FRIDAY’S announcement of Pepper Potts arriving on site, but he wasn’t going to complain. Nothing cleared his head quite like swinging; the almost-but-not-quite flying sensation, the way the swoop still made his stomach flip with excitement, the chill of the breeze cutting through his suit and vibrating his skin. Everything else fell away when he could just swing, a strangely exhilarated sense of calm washing over him.

“Spiderling!”

Nothing like of a booming shout coming from seemingly nowhere to destroy one’s sense of calm.

The shock of being called by Thor, Norse God of Thunder and All Around Impressive Dude, promptly made Peter lose his momentum and end up swinging right into the waiting arms of a weeping willow. He tumbled slowly through the ropey branches, eventually catching himself to be able to drop to the ground on his feet.

“Avenger member Thor would like to communicate with you, Peter,” his suit’s interface, KAREN, chirped. “Would you like to suspend our current training exercise?”

“Yeah, please,” Peter said. He watched with unabashed awe as Thor dropped nimbly down in the field in front of the tree, cape billowing behind him. Not for the first time, he was thankful his suit covered his face.

Warmth and good humor practically radiated off of Thor, even with his ridiculous muscles and even more ridiculous battle axe he now carried everywhere. It helped calm Peter’s nerves a bit. 

“Stark has made me aware we’ve not been properly introduced,” Thor explained. “It feels a grave error on my part, young Avenger.”

“What? Nah—nah it’s cool,” Peter insisted. “I mean, I was erased from existence for a while, and things were pretty crazy when I first got back. You looked like you had your hands full with the talking raccoon, so...”

“Rabbit has many opinions, most often full of expletives. He reminds me of my youth, so we get along splendidly.” 

Behind his mask, Peter blinked, and the suit’s interface mimicked the motion. “...Rabbit?”

“I hope you and I will get along splendidly as well, my Arachnid themed friend,” Thor continued. “I have heard tales of your bravery in situations where you were far smaller than your adversaries. The time you stole the Captain’s shield sounds especially humorous.”

“Aw, yeah, man, that was pretty awesome, I sorta just swung in all—“

“I actually came here to speak with greater intention, Spiderling, funny stories will have to wait.” 

Peter choked, eyes going wide. No matter how many times it happened, a superhero asking him for help always put him into a giddy adrenaline spiked overdrive. It was still too easy to lump them in a different category than himself. 

“Oh hey yeah sure, I, ah—“ The false deepness Peter sometimes tried to put into his voice in front of villains came out in full volume. The face Thor pulled in response immediately made the younger man deflate. “What can I do Mr. Thor, sir?”

“Now that Midgard is enjoying relative quiet, my people are settling in their new adopted lands well... for the most part.” Thor shifted uncomfortably, his free hand adjusting his tunic by the collar. “Peace and quiet suit my brother ill. Loki grows restless in calm.”

“Well, I get that—I’m not even a god of mischief, and too much calm makes me twitchy,” Peter commiserated. “That’s usually about when I blow something up. On accident, I mean, I’m not a pyro or anything.”

A warm smile bloomed on Thor’s face. “You appear to already understand my brother better than most. I would like to invite him to spend some of his time here, encourage him to be an asset in protecting our new world.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, that’s cool—wait, I still dunno what you need—does he need my room? Cause, I don’t actually live here, I’m strictly part time avenging, I got school, so he could totally sleep there.”

“I believe there are quarters enough to go around,” Thor said. “But Stark and Rogers made it very clear I would need to gain permission from the team before bringing my brother here, given his... past indiscretions.”

“His—oh.” Peter’s eyebrows shot up, making the edges of his white synthetic eyes go wide on the mask. “Right. The Incident.” 

Peter had been nine when Loki attempted to overtake the Earth with a borrowed army. He had been safe at school in Queens, but like any other New York native, the rippling ramifications of the Incident affected his life. Perhaps his more than most, though he didn’t think of it that way.

“Yes, indeed.” Thor closed the distance between them, his large hands clasping Peter’s shoulders. “I want you to feel no pressure to say yes to this request, just because I am your favorite Avenger, I want your honest answer.”

“Of course, I—wait, who told you you were my favorite Avenger?”

Thor grinned rakishly. “Your impression of me was most amusing, even if the hammer you held was pathetically small.”

Peter sputtered in confusion, before the realization hit him like a truck. “Aw, Karen, what the hell, man?” he moaned in despair.

“Your impressions are very funny,” KAREN said happily in his ear. “Mr. Stark agreed when reviewing Baby Monitor footage and asked to store them on his personal drive for safe keeping.”

“Oh god...” Peter yanked his mask off of his head, too disgusted with his AI to talk to her anymore.

The sight of Peter’s face made Thor blink and take a step back. “You are even younger than I anticipated,” he mused. “And your face is not horribly disfigured at all.”

“I’m sixteen I—no my face is not—why would you—who thinks I’m disfigured?”

Thor shrugged. “Why else would you always wear a mask like a petty criminal?”

Peter let out an indignant huff, but decided it was perhaps best to focus. He had heard Mr. Stark talk enough about Thor’s peculiar conversation style to know he could end up in a black hole. “I’m fine with Loki being a part of things around here. Really. Just—“ He tilted his head a moment, considering. “—Could I meet him, y’know, when he gets here?”

“Of course, young Spiderling.”

“Y’know, you can call me Peter, if you want,” he said. “Or, Spider-Man, that’s my real superhero title.”

Thor let out a booming laugh. “Oh, sweet child, you are no man yet,” he said good naturedly. “When you are a man, we will revel, and it will be an occasion to redefine celebrations. You will drink until you cannot stand and bed as many Midgardians as you desire, of this you have my word.”

The casual manner in which Thor spoke of a raging party made Peter flush, his hands fumbling with his mask just to have something to do. “I, uh, well—th-that’s, ummm... thanks?”

“Thank you, Peter Spider-Child,” Thor said, in that earnest serious tone somehow only he could muster. “Till we meet again!”

Peter watched as the God of Thunder’s eyes glazed over with a cracking glow, tendrils of electricity racing over his limbs before he shot off into the sky. A grin tugged at Peter’s mouth despite his flustered state; it never stopped being cool.

His phone buzzed against his thigh and Peter reached down, pulling it out to check the text that came in.

**Ned says: Uhhh, dude, you might want to come into school early tomorrow to take care of this**

A picture loaded on Peter’s screen of his locker at school. It was adorned with glittery flesh colored necklaces, the kind seen see at Mardi Gras, only the beads were shaped like penises. Peter’s mouth fell open at the sight.

**Peter says: !!!???@$@:!; &**

**Peter says: dammit, flash, really?**

**Ned says: ...he used some kind of adhesive, I can’t pull em down**

Peter shut his eyes and groaned, letting his head fall back against the thick trunk of the willow tree. Times like these he had real difficulty in justifying to himself why he shouldn’t just punch Flash in his too-white teeth, just once.

“Man, why is my life... such weird extremes?” he muttered to no one in particular.

KAREN’s muffled alert of an incoming call through the encrypted Spider-Man line had him pull his mask back on one handed. The material skewed over his face, making the HUD likewise lopsided and Tony Stark’s face appear almost sideways.

“Heeyyy, Mr. Stark.” Peter fumbled to get his regular phone in its secure pocket and his mask straightened at the same time.

“Spider-pup.” Stark’s gaze was focused off screen, one hand seeming to wave manically at nothing in the air. Peter knew it meant he was in his workshop, the holographic interface not being properly picked up by the camera. “Not too terribly singed, are you? Only lightly sautéed?”

“Huh?”

“From when you exercised your veto power on Thor’s ridiculous plan to let his homicidal sociopath brother loose on our property.” Stark found time for a quick, stern look. “You did tell him he could shove that battle axe where the sun doesn’t shine, didn’t you?”

“No,” Peter said with a small shake of his head. “No, I told him it was cool.”

At that Stark finally turned his full attention to the conversation. “Excuse me?”

“I said I was fine with it. Just, that I want to meet him,” Peter explained. He took in the older man’s expression, that look he sometimes got around Peter that indicated he was trying very hard to not yell. “If you think it’s a bad idea, you could use your veto power, couldn’t you, Mr. Stark?”

“I...” Stark torqued his neck, as if twisting his head away from a particularly grating noise. “I am under strict instructions to be slightly less of a controlling megalomaniac. I agreed to abstain.”

“Oh. Hey, good for you,” Peter said encouragingly. 

Stark peeled off his red tinged glasses with a sigh. “Peter, you know what he was responsible for, right?” His voice was strangely gentle. “Trying to stab a mad titan in the neck a couple of times doesn’t change that.”

Peter hesitated a moment. “We’re all responsible for things we’re not proud of,” he responded slowly. “Figuring out how to use these powers we’ve been given—the curve is steep. And when we make mistakes, they’re always big ones. Huge. Massive, life changing ones... But we’ve been given second chances. Why not him?”

Stark was quiet for a long time; so long that Peter was about ready to apologize, assuming he must have overstepped his bounds and angered the man. Instead, the billionaire cleared his throat gruffly and blinked as he put his glasses back on. If Peter didn’t know better, he might have thought his mentor was emotional.

“You, kid, are...” The billionaire shook his head. “The biggest Hufflepuff to ever huffle a puff.”

“Aw, hey, thanks! Y’know, I get a lot of Ravenclaw assumptions at school, which is just, totally bogus—“

“—right, and this conversation officially got too nerdy for me.” Stark turned his attention back to his workshop. “Come on into base, kid, it’s time to get you back to the city. We are not going to be late and have your fierce Italian lioness of an Aunt coming after me.”

Peter wrinkled his nose. “Okay, yeah, sure, just... stop describing my Aunt May like that.”

“She’s an attractive woman, Pete, there’s no getting around that. An attractive, terrifying woman that scares me more than most Villains of the Week, so get back here, alright?”

The call ended without waiting for Peter’s reply, and he got to work, making it back to the heart of the Avenger’s Compound in just a few short swings.

His life was so weird, but so worth it.


End file.
